


What Will Be Is What Was Is What Is

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Cylons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>...this has all happened before and it will happen again...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Will Be Is What Was Is What Is

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tag challenge at 13th Tribe on Live Journal. Unbetaed. If you see any egregious errors, please let me know so I can fix them.

Bullets slam into her body, a one-two punch with the force of an avalanche, bearing her down to the deck. There is no pain, but she can’t lift her arm. She wants to raise her hand to cup Chief’s face, stark in front of her, his eyes wild. But her muscles refuse to obey the commands of her brain. She tries to hold on, tries to touch that face one last time, but the invisible chains that weigh down her arm grow exponentially heavier. Wanting to trace the shining lines of his tears with her fingertip, she can only trace them with her eyes.

Her body grows cold, all of the heat and light leaking from two small holes in her torso. As whatever force animates her body fades, a hissing roar swells around her, swallows her whole. Her vision fades, diminishing to a pinpoint of dark light. Her heart stops. Her breath stops. Her life stops.

And that’s when the pain starts.

Every molecule burns from the inside. Agony, infinite and intimate, consumes her consciousness, razing the layers that make her whole, diminishing her with every second, every hour, every century, every nanosecond that passes until nothing is left.

The pain stops.

Darkness is light. Light is emptiness. What will be is what was is what is.

Slowly, in fits and starts, awareness returns.

…a waterfall, frighteningly, exhilaratingly high as she drops like a stone to the lake below. She goes under, surrounded by warm water and bubbles, impossibly far. Holding her breath, she shoots for the surface as her lungs clamor for air. Her vision darkens at the edges, shot through with stars and with lightning and when she’s sure she can’t hold her breath any longer, her head and shoulders break free and she can breathe again…

…she stands naked with her sisters, the surface beneath her feet warm and yielding. Love fills her, overflows from her as the explosion begins, sending a wave of intense heat and cacophonous sound rolling over her…

…she spins and spins, her dress swirls around her ankles and laughter wells up in her throat as dark eyes and warm arms envelop her…

…immersed in chaos, she spins in place. A few feet to her left, a shout, of pain or fear or maybe a combination of both. She runs toward the sound, lifts the portion of a concrete wall that has fallen on the man crushed beneath its weight and he somehow manages to pull himself free. His left leg appears to have two joints, rather than one…

…lying flat, she tries to move, but wires and tubes tether her in place, tugging uncomfortably at her skin to the sound of beeps, mechanical, impersonal…

…she steps into the breach, squeezes her slender body into the space that’s barely large enough to accommodate it. She sets drill to frame and sets to work. The repair is one that a Centurion should perform, but the space is too small for her mechanoid brethren and so it falls to her as the only humanoid available. As she continues to work, increasing her exposure, the radiation that surrounds her begins to burn and her skin to blister…

Her name is Cressida is Eight is Maria is Lorelai is Geneva is Eight.

No!

Her name is Sharon.

She is Sharon.

Latching on to the one thing that’s real, Sharon holds tightly to what little consciousness remains as the universe flies past her and the pain begins again. Battered as by a hurricane force wind, she clings to the one thing she knows to be true.

“My name is Sharon Valerii. I am an officer in the Colonial Fleet. My name is Sharon Valerii….”

Everywhere is noise and light and growing pressure on her skin. She can’t move. She can’t stop moving. She is drowning she is burning she is freezing she is suffocating.

Everything stops.

Sharon opens her eyes. All is confusion, is terror. Above her is infinite space. Around her is… is…

She scrambles for purchase, arms and legs flailing as she tries to escape the viscous mess that encases her body. She hears something, a sound, a voice. She looks up into her own smiling face.

Shocked to her core, Sharon Valerii opens her mouth and screams.


End file.
